Flight of the Eagle
by queerlove
Summary: Draco returns to Hogwarts after the war, and chooses to be resorted.  Luna Lovegood/Draco Malfoy.  Rated M, for much later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"Draco, are you quite sure I can't accompany you to the platform?" Narcissa Malfoy's face was marked with worry—one sign of the war that had taken place. The Malfoy Mask had somehow become a thing of the past for her. The most common expression these days to mar her aristocratic features was worry; next was fear, and anger, and on occasion, a pleading expression. Before the war, a Malfoy never wore these expressions—at least not publically.

"Yes, mother, I would really rather go alone," Draco, adjusting his robes in the mirror, had to stop the sigh he wanted to release at having to answer the same question for perhaps the twentieth time since he had come down to breakfast early that morning. Seeing that his mother's features hadn't relaxed, he added, "I'm sure everything will be fine. I know how to defend myself, yet I doubt I'll have to. You know most of the Slytherin's have chosen not to return to Hogwarts."

"Surely, Draco, you don't think that your former friends are the only ones you need fear?" Her look of exclamation only served to exasperate Draco further.

"I am not thick. I understand that I will have to watch my own back, and I will have to watch it more so than I used to." He turned away from the mirror after one last glance at his straightened tie. "The train will leave shortly. You know I must be going."

Narcissa shook her head, her expression admitting defeat. "Have a good year, son. Come back home to me."

"Of course, mother," he said softly. His mother looked close to tears, as she had been much since the war ended…since his father had been giving a permanent slab of stone in Azkaban Prison. He stepped forward to hug her, an act that had occurred more often since the fall of the Dark Lord. "I'll be home for Christmas," he said softly against her yellow-blond hair.

For a moment he feared she wouldn't let him go. After several moments, she gave one final squeeze, kissed him on the cheek, and stepped back. "Goodbye, Draco," she whispered, trying very hard not to cry.

"Goodbye, Mother." Draco shrank his trunk and put it gently into his pocket. Turning on the spot, he dissapparated directly onto Platform 9 3/4.

The platform was crowded just as much as usual. Wide eyed and grinning first years looked around excitedly, pointing and saying their goodbyes. Many of the parents looked worried and reluctant to let their children leave on the train, much like Draco's mother had been. Many returning students from all years were clamoring to get aboard. Draco scanned the platform for even one friendly face, but he found none. He hadn't really been expecting to.

He knew that many of his old friends from Slytherin would not be returning for what had been coined "The Eighth Year". Most of their parents were either dead or in Azkaban with Draco's father. Some of them were dead themselves. He shook his head in an effort to stop that train of thought.

He started towards the train, but halted in his footsteps when he spotted the very people he thought least likely to return. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter were approaching, surrounded closely by the group of friends that everyone knew as Dumbledore's Army: Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood. Predictably, Ron and Hermione were holding hands; Harry was beside them with his arm slung over Neville's shoulder; walking slightly behind and beside the group of four was the Weasley girl and Luna, appearing to be in conversation.

As they approached, Draco took a step back to give them more room to pass. The group silenced as they grew closer to him, each casting a furtive glance his way. He didn't turn away from their eyes. His resolve slipped as Luna came into his line of vision and met his eyes. He held his breath, afraid of what she might say, but she only smiled softly before continuing past him with her group of Gryffindor friends. Draco released the breath he had been holding, gathered his black robes around him and boarded the train.

He easily found an empty compartment, sliding inside and shutting the door behind him. He sat down, trying to ignore the thoughts streaming into his mind. It was easy at first, what with the sounds of students loading the train, slamming compartment doors and shuffling to stuff their luggage into the racks. But after the train had left the station, the halls quieted and Draco's thoughts itched at him.

Luna Lovegood. The girl had been held captive in the cellar of Malfoy Manor for nearly a year. Draco hated the times that he was forced to bring the trays of slop down to the prisoners. He was afraid of them, as he had been afraid of everything since his sixth year. He'd go into the cellar, floating the food trays ahead of him, moving cautiously and warily into the always darkened room. Luna was always the prisoner to step forward and collect the trays. "Thank you, Draco," she would whisper every time.

_Thank you, Draco. _The memory of those words never seemed to leave Draco be. They echoed as though he were facing her in that cellar again. _Thank you, Draco._

Draco's thoughts were interrupted by the opening of his compartment door. "Anything off the trolley?" the aged witch asked him, as though she had no idea who she was.

Draco almost told her no, but decided that a few treats would probably do his spirits well. He ended up purchasing only a Chocolate Frog, hoping it would cheer him. He only had a bite out of the frog when his eyes strayed to see what famous wizard was on his card. He had collected several since he was a young child, so he never expected to see anything that he didn't all ready have. He almost dropped the card when he saw the serene smile, blond hair, radish earrings, and pale grey eyes—so much like his own—looking back at him. After overcoming the initial shock, he read the description: _Luna Lovegood, Ravenclaw. Member of Dumbledore's Army. Fought alongside Harry Potter in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Escaped from imprisonment in Malfoy Manor and went on to play an active role in the downfall of Tom Riddle and several Death Eaters during The Battle of Hogwarts._

Draco felt the shame that was becoming a permanent part of him wash over him as he read the card. For the first time since making the decision to return for The Eighth Year, he wished he had stayed home with his mother. He knew his reputation was worthless and his last name permanently besmirched for the rest of his life; yet, somehow, he had convinced himself that if he finished his education and did exceedingly well on his N.E.W.T.S. that he could at least obtain a work position within the magical community. Reading the Chocolate Frog Card put his future in perspective in a way he had not consciously viewed it: Nothing a Malfoy ever did would make up for being on the wrong side in a good versus evil war. Nothing.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Even a shamed Malfoy does not cry when in a position to be caught crying. He slipped the Chocolate Frog Card into an inner pocket of his robe, and looked back out the window without finishing his chocolate. He knew the road ahead of him would not be easy, but he vowed to trudge through it no matter what.

By the time the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade Station, Draco was counting himself very lucky. Only once had he been disturbed on the journey. A first year had busted into his compartment by accident. One look at Draco, and his eyes had gone wide and he was stumbling backwards, mumbling in fear, before jetting out of the compartment and down the hall. Draco hadn't said a word or even given a nasty sneer in the boy's direction.

Draco waited until the stampede of students disembarking the train was over before leaving his compartment. His wand was up his sleeve, ready to be withdrawn should someone attack. He stepped off the train and looked around him cautiously. Hagrid was yelling for first years, though most of them had already found their way over to him. The other students were already filling the thestral-drawn carriages. Draco couldn't help but wonder how many more students could see the creatures since the war ended. He had been seeing them since his fifth year. He quickly shoved the thoughts away, heading for the carriages.

Draco breathed in, hoping that somehow he could get lucky again and be in a carriage to himself. He stepped into the last carriage and found himself sitting across from two students that appeared to be second or third year Slytherins. Not the luck he was expecting, but luck nonetheless. He nodded at each boy, then turned to look out at the castle ahead. The carriage began moving with a slight jolt. He could feel the eyes of both boys on him, but he didn't look at them until—

"You're Draco Malfoy," one of the boys said in a voice so haughty it could rival Draco's twelve year old arrogance.

Draco studied the boy for a moment before saying quietly, "Yes," on second thought he added, "but it's just Draco, if you don't mind."

To Draco's surprise the boy laughed out loud at him. "Just Draco! That's rich! Do you actually think you can make people forget who you are?"

Draco recovered quickly and answered more quietly than before, "No…no I don't expect that anyone will forget." He returned his eyes to the growing castle. The boys didn't bother him the rest of the way there.

There was no way for Draco to separate himself from the throng of students entering the castle, so he did his best to blend in. He walked towards the Slytherin table, seating himself by habit in the spot he had sat in the years before. It didn't take him long to wish that he hadn't. Not one of his former friends were there, and no one sat anywhere near him; however, seeing as how the table was mostly empty, that wasn't saying much. Draco looked at the Slytherins along the table. He was the oldest among them, and it appeared that it was not only his class absent, but also the class below him and most of the class below them. Again, he felt like his mother might have been right about him returning to Hogwarts.

He knew exactly what his father would say: _Now, Draco, you must work hard to restore the Malfoy reputation. As heir, it is your duty. Along the way, restore Slytherin as well._ Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes at the thought. His father had always expected perfection from Draco, and was continually disappointed. Draco was very thankful that his father wasn't around to try and control his return to school, or to employ Draco with the _Malfoy Duties and Responsibilities_ speech.

Draco scanned the hall, noticing that almost all the other houses had returned, though the Gryffindor table had several gaps. Of course, everyone knew that the Gryffindor house had sustained many losses during the war. His eyes fell over Harry Potter, looking more happy and laid back than Draco had ever seen him. His arms were folded on the table before him, eyes shining and grin in place as Neville whispered something in his ear.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the scene before him. Harry bit his lip before responding to whatever Neville had been saying. Harry's arms came down off the table, and it appeared that one hand was somewhere in Neville's lap. The two boys seemed to be in their own little world, and the looks and smiles they were sending each other between words was highly suggestive of a relationship beyond friendship, in Draco's opinion.

His attention was pulled away from Harry and Neville as Luna sprang up from the Gryffindor table and made a quick trip back to Ravenclaw, waving goodbye to her Gryffindor friends as she did. Draco sighed as he watched her sit down at her own house table. For probably the millionth time in the past two years, he wondered what his life would have been like if he had let the sorting hat put him where it wanted to.

He could still remember his sorting like it was just yesterday. He had approached the stool, repeating in his head, _Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin…_ over and over again. He panicked as the hat hovered over him and he heard the hat say,(though only to him), _Ravenclaw_. Draco's thoughts had shouted, _No! Slytherin!_ The hat complied to his demand immediately and shouted, "SLYTHERIN."

Realistically, Draco knew that his father would probably have pulled him out of Hogwarts completely had he been sorted anywhere but in Slytherin. Draco had almost forgotten the hat's desire to sort him into Ravenclaw, until Luna Lovegood had become the newest captive in Malfoy Manor. Since then, he had thought about it constantly. He often wished he had just let the hat put him there…his life would have been so different, assuming that his father wouldn't have disowned him or pulled him out of school.

Draco was glad to have his thoughts disrupted by the entrance of Professor McGonagall and the first year students. The line only contained about twenty or so students—not nearly as many as usual. Professor McGonagall led them to the front of the hall, and stood beside the stool with the Sorting Hat atop it.

"Before we begin the sorting, I have an offer to extend to all returning students," Draco sat up straighter, wondering what could be so important that it should come before the sorting. "Any returning students wishing to be re-sorted will have that opportunity to do so after the first year sorting. The staff of Hogwarts agree that an event as monumental as a war can change every aspect of a person. Of course, we have also consorted with the Sorting Hat on this decision. It is very excited to see which students step forward, and it is very eager to be worn by several of you once again," She paused dramatically, looking around the hall before smiling at the young students lined up before her. "Now, let's begin." With that she pulled out a parchment and began the first year sorting.

Only Draco's life-long training in the control of visible emotions stopped his mouth from dropping open at the announcement the new headmaster had made. Of course he would step forward to be resorted! But as soon as excitement gripped him, so did uncertainty and fear. Stepping forward to be resorted would surely draw unwanted attention to himself. Some of the students would surely mock him—and what if the Sorting Hat decided that Slytherin was the house for him after all? It would be too embarrassing. He couldn't risk it.

And then his newfound conscious spoke to him. He had nothing to risk. No good reputation, no friends, not even pride. He had already lost all that. The only thing stopping him was his own cowardice: The same cowardice that had kept him from standing up to his father and making his own decisions; the same cowardice that kept him from going to Dumbledore for help instead of plotting the man's murder; the same cowardice that stopped him from going to Harry and asking to be part of Dumbledore's Army. He felt a twinge of pain in his chest, realizing again that his entire short life had been ruined because he was nothing but a coward.

The sorting of the first years ended, and Draco was among the rest of the hall in noticing that not one student was sorted into Slytherin. Before anyone could discuss it among themselves, Professor McGonagall opened the floor for any students wishing to be resorted. Draco swallowed all his fear and uncertainty. He rose from his seat and learned for the first time what Bravery felt like. He tried to ignore the pounding of his heart, but became thankful for it as it seemed to drown out the murmuring of the students all over the Hall. The walk to the front of the Great Hall was the longest walk of his life. Only when he was right in front of McGonagall did he realize that he was the only one that approached to be resorted. He knew his face was bright red. His legs were shaking as though they were trying to break free from his body and run away. The fear he felt in that moment, standing before all the teachers and students, was _almost_ the greatest his fear had ever been.

McGonagall looked down at him. She was obviously shocked to see him there. Draco looked back. After the walk to get in front of her, holding her gaze seemed easy. She didn't say a word; she only looked at him for what felt like a very long time before stepping aside and gesturing for him to step forward and sit on the stool.

Draco's legs were wobbly as he climbed the few steps to the small platform. He had to look down to make sure he didn't fall. He turned around and sat on the stool, forced to look at the many faces gaping up at him. He didn't know when the murmuring had stopped, but all was silent now, as the Sorting Hat was lowered onto his head.

He was thankful that the hat was big enough to cover his eyes. The darkness somehow made him feel safe, even though he was blind before a room of people that probably wanted to hex him right at this moment. At first the hat said nothing, long enough for Draco to get worried. But then a soft chuckle sounded in his head.

_Sorry to worry you, young Malfoy, but I'm just so astounded to be on your head again. Do you know how hard it is to surprise a hat like me? Of course you don't, for you're not a hat like me._ The hat chuckled again, _The last time you were here, I barely had time to sit upon you. You were so determined to be in Slytherin, that I could see there was no need in arguing with you. No need to tell me what caused the change of heart, I see it all, here in your head._

_Do you still think I don't belong to Slytherin?_ Draco timidly asked.

_Oh, Draco, you have spent seven years belonging to Slytherin house…a part of you will always belong to it. But you were never intended for Salazar's House. Just because you were born a Malfoy, does not mean that you are your father, though you have tried so hard to be like him. I am pleased to see that you have stopped that kind of behavior. Draco, you don't have the heart of a Slytherin. Continue what you have begun today—master your fear. You are clever enough to achieve a new destiny and change the opinions that people have of you._

_I highly doubt it will be that easy,_ Draco thought. He felt tears burning his eyes and found it too hard to completely stop them as he listened to the hat.

_I think you'll see that some people can be very forgiving when given adequate reason to be. I stand by my decision from years ago. You truly belong to—_"RAVENCLAW!" The hat shouted, startling Draco. Too quickly the hat was removed from his head and he was again facing the mass of dumbfounded students. Draco didn't move.

"Mr. Malfoy, you may take your place at the Ravenclaw table," Professor McGonagall urged.

Draco looked at her and stood from the stool. He swallowed heavily and walked to Ravenclaw table. He felt the eyes of everyone in the hall on him. This became the second longest walk he had ever taken in his life. He quickly sat at the end of the table. The few young students near him scooted away from him even further.

As McGonagall began making the usual start of term announcements, the attention of the students slowly moved away from him. He dared to look down the length of the Ravenclaw table. Several students glared at him, obviously not thrilled to have Draco Malfoy in their house. Draco didn't blame them. He found Luna, several seats away from him. She was surrounded by members of her house, but she met Draco's gaze steadily. He found he couldn't look away. When she smiled softly at him before turning her attention to the food that suddenly appeared, Draco felt a burning around his heart.

He looked to his own plate, and modestly covered it with his favorite foods. As he ate alone, he tried to block out the harsh words that found his ears. After all, he hadn't expected for anyone to be glad to see him back at Hogwarts…and he certainly couldn't expect anyone in Ravenclaw house to be accepting about his resorting. But sneaking a glance at the blonde with the radish earrings, he couldn't help but hope that the Sorting Hat was right. Maybe some people could be forgiving. And he found that he desperately wanted Luna to be one of those people.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco was relieved when the meal finally came to an end. The few that were making comments about him were getting braver as their bellies were getting fuller, and Draco thought that someone may actually deliver a spell soon. He had ceased eating completely, opting to hold his wand in a tight, sweaty palm up under the sleeve of his Slytherin Robes.

The hall seemingly rose in unison to follow both their Head of House and their Prefects. Once they were out of the Great Hall, Draco's feet were tempted by habit towards the lower levels of Hogwarts. As it was, there was an adequately sized pack of Ravenclaws that he was trailing behind to keep him moving in the right direction.

Draco was smart enough to keep his guard up, yet his small dose of bravery from earlier seemed to be allowing more bravery to find its way inside; at least in the small things. A few of the students in the murmuring mass before him turned to cast glances at him. Draco followed without stumbling, meeting their eyes. He didn't glare, he simply looked back. He didn't know if it meant anything, but he felt good doing it.

He couldn't help but let his attention waver from the wandering, and sometimes accusing, eyes as they came to a bronze spiral staircase. Draco had been on the fifth floor from time to time, but never to this part of it. The students went up the staircase two-by-two, silencing as Professor Flitwick reached the door. Draco looked up from the bottom of the staircase, though he couldn't see the door from there. A gong-like knock resounded through the corridor, and a voice called out loud enough for them all to hear: "For many of you, I symbolize evil and death and treachery; but do not let it slip your mind, that I also symbolize transformation, healing, and immortality. What am I?"

Draco stood at the bottom of the spiraled staircase with his mouth hanging uncharacteristically open. Had the door just asked a question? About serpents? Snakes? What kind of luck was on his side—or against him, depending on what part of the door's hint the students chose to retain?

"As you can see," Flitwick was saying, speaking mostly to the first years at the top of the stairs, "the Ravenclaw Tower needs more than a password to be accessed. It needs you to use your mind and come up with a suitable answer; otherwise…well," he chuckled, "you'd better hope another student comes along to answer for you."

There seemed to be a nervous murmuring from the first years, as well as from some of the other students. Draco didn't murmur or squirm, but he certainly wanted to. A password would have been much more convenient. He couldn't help but fear that he would spending a night or two out on the spiral staircase because he wasn't able to answer a question.

"Would anyone care to answer?" Flitwick called out cheerfully.

Draco, though he was positive he knew the answer, said nothing. No one said anything at first, then Draco slowly raised his head again as Luna's voice called out softly, "Professor, I believe the door is referring to a Snake, as it is viewed through the eyes of more than one culture."

"Well said," the voice Draco came to think of as _the door_ answered. Another sound signified that it had been opened, and the students began trooping excitedly up the staircase and into the room.

When Draco reached the top, he realized that _the door_ was actually a bronze eagle with a knocker hanging below it. He stared at it for a moment before hesitantly entering his new home while at Hogwarts.

Again, Draco couldn't stop his mouth from dropping open. His eyes widened as he took in the vastness of the room. Everything was blue: the floor, the ceiling with its littering of stars, the walls, and the satin drapes that fell from ceiling to floor to accent the long, wide windows. It was too dark for Draco to see what view the Ravenclaws would have, but he was just excited to have a view at all.

Everything was so different than the dungeons. The Slytherin Dungeons seemed to encourage surliness, boredom, and even evil. Everything was green and dark, with an eerie wet feeling. But this room…Draco felt like he had taken his first breath of fresh air. The room, and the knowledge that he had become a part of it, made him feel expectantly empty…that kind of empty a room must feel like when it's been shut up for too long, then suddenly the doors and windows are thrown open, and a cool, cleansing wind echoes around all its empty corners, preparing it to be filled. Draco felt refreshed.

"Eighth Year students, if you'll follow me! First Years, you listen to your Prefects!" Flitwick issued the instructions, and Draco walked towards him, along with the few other Eighth Years. One of the boys passed him a look that suggested Draco was no more than gum on the bottom of his shoe. Draco looked away, but once again felt the wand in his sleeve. "Good, now as you can see, another door has been added here," Flitwick began. Draco looked past the little man to a statue of what must have been Rowena Ravenclaw. In an alcove behind it were three doors; Draco assumed there must have been only two before. "The one in the middle will lead through to a smaller common room. Shall we?"

The small group of Eighth Year Ravenclaws followed Flitwick thru the door, up a short staircase, and through an archway into a smaller version of the main common room.

"This will be your private quarters; the younger students will not be able to access this room unless accompanied by one of you. There are two doors on each end of the room," he paused to motion to the doors on opposite sides of the room, "the left is for you gentlemen, and the right is for our returning ladies. Now, I'm sure you are all very anxious to get unpacked and into bed so that you will be well rested for your first morning of classes. You will receive your schedules at breakfast, as usual. Any questions?" He smiled at the group, and Draco was relieved when Flitwick met his eyes in turn and smiled. He hoped it was a good sign.

"What about him?" The same male that had given Draco a nasty look just moments ago motioned at Draco, not hiding his disdain at the idea of having to share a room with the former Slytherin.

Flitwick folded his pudgy hands in front of him, leaning slightly forward, raising his white brows at the sneering young man. "Mister Corner, I'm sure the magic in the Ravenclaw Tower can more than adequately provide another bed for Mister Malfoy in the Eighth Year Dormitories." Flickwick's tone suggested that he knew he wasn't answering the question in the way that Michael wanted him to; nevertheless, his point came across. "Any more questions?"

"No, sir," Corner said quietly. The other students shook their heads, most of them looking to the floor.

Flitwick turned to exit the room in short, quick strides. At the door, he turned, looking at Draco and added, "I nearly forgot. You'll find amongst your things a new tie and a Ravenclaw badge to replace the Slytherin one on your robes. I'm afraid you'll have to order any additional articles of clothing yourself." He didn't wait for a reply before leaving.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind the short Head of House, all eyes turned on Draco Malfoy. He swallowed, eyes darting between all the sets of eyes. Luna's eyes held the briefest, followed shortly by Padma's. They were the only girls in Ravenclaw to return for the Eighth Year, and they silently left the boys alone. Draco watched them leave before looking back at the three other boys in the room.

Draco immediately recognized one of them. The boy had disappeared from Hogwarts the previous year after shouting in the Great Hall about Harry Potter's break-in at Gringotts. Draco remembered how he had been dragged away by the Carrows, still screaming about Harry Potter being the Savior.

"Let's not make this any more awkward than it must be," spoke up another boy that Draco vaguely recognized. The boy approached Draco and extended his hand, "I'm Anthony Goldstein."

None of the shock that Draco felt at the non-hostile introduction showed on his face. He made himself more aware of the wand up his sleeve, and extended his own hand, keeping his senses peeled for any approaching attack. "I'm Draco. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"We know who you are, Malfoy!" Corner half-shouted at him from behind Anthony. Everyone's attention snapped to the other boy. Draco used the distraction to move his wand down enough so the handle was securely in his hand, but still hidden.

"Michael, calm down," Anthony said, but was cut off.

"No, I will not calm down! They expect for us to share a room with that—_that Slytherin_!" He looked Draco up and down like he was the most disgusting pile of vermin he had ever come in contact with.

Anthony looked about to say something, but Draco rushed ahead, not wanting for any of them to have to act as his defender. "I'm sure if I speak to Flitwick, other arrangements could be made-"

"Oh that's just like you to want special treatment, _Malfoy!" _Michael spat, cutting Draco off completely.

"That's not what I meant!" Draco's voice rose slightly before he could stop it. "I just thought you'd rather not share a room with me. Flitwick could move me, I'm sure."

Draco was surprised to notice that not one wand had been drawn since the altercation began. If this had been Slytherin…well, he reasoned absently, Slytherins wouldn't be shouting in their common room.

Anthony stood between the two, looking back and forward as though he wasn't sure what to say. He seemed to come to a decision, and tried again to speak to Michael, "Michael, you know what Flitwick said. We have to dorm with him. He's a Ravenclaw now."

"Bullshit, Anthony! You know you don't believe that! He's a fucking Slytherin that snaked his way in here!" Michael shouted with a hot headed fury that was Gryffindor-worthy.

"The Sorting Hat put him here, Corner!" Anthony said firmly, using the boy's surname. The tactic worked. Michael still looked ready to scream, but he kept his mouth shut.

The third boy stepped forward slowly and stood in front of Draco. He didn't say anything at first, but the piercing—analyzing—look he was giving him made Draco have to work hard to not squirm under the scrutiny.

"I'm Terry Boot," he finally said. Draco opened his mouth to reply, but Terry continued, still speaking softly, "It's obvious you're trying to prove that you're not an evil bastard." He paused here, and Draco couldn't help but squirm after that blunt statement. "Even if you're not, you're obviously very selfish. You didn't even think about the feelings of any of us."

Draco blinked, taken aback by the unexpected statement. He was at a loss for words, so didn't try to speak for fear of spluttering. Terry didn't seem to need him to say anything, though.

He continued, "Did it never occur to you how uncomfortable it would make us to have you here? Did you not even think of Luna?"

Draco visibly flinched, unable to control it this time. It was obvious he was listening to the cleverest of the Ravenclaw Eighth Years. What could Terry possibly say to him about Luna? What did he know? Draco felt he may panic if the boy didn't continue speaking and be done with the suspense his words had invoked. "What about her?" Draco said quietly, curiously, careful not to sound suspicious.

Terry cocked his head to the side, looking at Draco with that analyzing stare. "Did you ever think of how hard it would be for her having you here? After what she went through at your house?"

Draco's mouth opened in a silent "o", momentarily frozen. He hadn't thought of that at all. He shook his head and looked to the floor, feeling that Terry was absolutely right. He was selfish. He had only thought of himself when he chose to be resorted. It would be better for everyone else if he had stayed in Slytherin.

"I…" he tried to say something, but came up with nothing adequate enough. He felt like crying again, but swallowed it back for the third time that day.

Suddenly Michael had an outburst, "Yeah! You didn't think of that, did you, you selfish prick?" Draco had forgotten about the two other boys while Terry had been speaking to him. It was obvious that Michael hadn't calmed down for even a second.

"You don't need to shout, Michael." All four young men jumped at the voice. Draco's spun his head around and was met with the eyes of Luna Lovegood. But she wasn't looking at him. Her arms were crossed and she was looking between Terry and Michael. Draco watched, along with the other three as she silently moved across the floor until she was standing in the midst of them. "While I appreciate your concern, Terry, I do not need you to speak for me. And I definitely don't need you to defend me." Her voice was quiet and not unkind; however, the effect it had was instant.

Terry backed down immediately. "Sorry, Luna. I was simply making a point, but I shouldn't have involved you in it."

"What!" Michael sounded exasperated and angry, "But Luna! After what he put you through at his-"

"How would you know what I went through?" Luna silenced him. Draco noticed that while her eyes still held the wide eyed wandering look, her jaw was set more firmly, making her quite intimidating. "You weren't there with me. I'll have you know that Draco is not part of the group that took me from the train. He never tortured me or did anything unkind to me…" She paused to look at all of them—except for Draco. "He never stole my shoes, or laughed at me behind my back, or called me Loony Lovegood…"

They all had the decency to look apologetic and guilty, but Michael had to say something, "but Luna, what he did is different. He let Voldemort _live in his house_!" He was pleading with her to side with him.

Luna studied him for a moment. When she finally opened her mouth to speak, all of them had to hold their breaths and lean slightly forward to hear her low voice. "None of us can imagine what he went through…having that madman in his home…" She looked at Draco, her eyes held pity. "It must have been hard."

Draco found that he couldn't look at her. He looked at his feet, hardly able to believe that she was defending him. A large part of him wanted to lash out—to tell her that he didn't need _a girl_ to defend him. But that sounded childish to him, though he knew that he probably would have said just that only a couple of years ago. He held his tongue, and looked up to find Luna still looking at him. He realized in that moment, that he never wanted to say or do anything to make that face look upon him with pain or disappointment. The memory of it flashed before his eyes, and he squeezed his eyes shut against it. When he opened them, Luna was studying him with a puzzled expression.

"Fine," Michael said between clenched teeth. "But don't think I'm going to be all buddy-buddy with him." He looked right at Draco, pointing a rigid finger at him. "I don't like you. I don't trust you."

"I really don't blame you," Draco said before he could stop himself. At least he was telling the truth, he reasoned.

"Save it! I don't care about anything you have to say!" Michael replied.

"Mike-" Anthony warned.

"No! I'm going to bed." With that, Michael Corner spun on his heel and stomped through the door to the boys' dormitory.

Anthony shrugged at Draco before following Michael. Luna and Terry were both looking at him now.

"I'd wait a few minutes before you came to bed, Malfoy," Terry stated calmly, but in a matter-of-fact tone. "Give Michael time to get into his bed, so he doesn't have to see you when you come in."

"Sure," Draco shook his head, not about to argue, "I understand."

"Alright. Goodnight, Luna…Draco." Draco couldn't help but notice how Terry's eyes darted between the two, as though he was uncomfortable leaving Luna alone with him.

Luna seemed to notice to, "Oh go on, Terry. I can handle myself."

"I know, I just…" his eyes darted to Draco one more time. "oh, alright, goodnight." He turned and left the room.

Luna turned to Draco as soon as they were alone, but she didn't say anything. She just looked at him, analyzing the way Terry had done. Draco found it nearly impossible not to fidget as she looked at him. He had to break the silence, so he said the only thing that came to his mind.

"Thank you." Somehow, saying the words calmed him down long enough so that he could stand still and look back at her. And that's when he realized that looking at Luna Lovegood was something he hadn't done enough of. She was so much like him in appearance: white-blond hair and pale skin. Their lips were even similar, though he had not seen his reflection slowly curving into a genuine smile the way her lips were doing now. He looked at her eyes, unable to miss how alike the stormy grey color was to his own; except…before he knew what he was doing, he had taken a step forward to get a closer look into those eyes. No, he thought, her eyes are much more beautiful than mine. Bluer, definitely bluer.

"Wrackspurt got your tongue?" Luna whispered.

Draco halted mid-step, knocked out of whatever zone he had been in by Luna's voice. His eyes widened as he realized how close to her he had gotten. He dropped her gaze and quickly retreated, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"I'm sorry, I seemed to have gotten a bit distracted." He tossed off, not knowing what else to say.

"It's alright," she assured him, "Wrackspurts affect a lot of people, though few believe in them."

"What's a Wrackspurt?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"It's an invisible creature. They float into your ears and make your brain go all fuzzy." She said as though she were teaching a very interesting lesson.

"Oh," Draco said, still puzzled. "But…those aren't…they're not real." Draco wanted to beat himself over the head for making such an idiotic response.

Fortunately for him, she didn't seem to mind. She just shrugged and replied, "Like I said, few believe. I think it'd be okay for you to go to bed now."

Draco had to blink to catch up with the sudden change in subject. Never had anyone been able to befuddle him so completely. If she could just turn those eyes away from him for one second, he thought he might have a chance of getting his brain under control and under his command. As it was, she didn't stop looking at him, and he found he couldn't even get words out at this point.

She smiled softly—shyly, Draco thought—and said, "See you tomorrow, Draco." She began walking to the door that would lead to her dormitory, and Draco couldn't help but watch her go. She turned around just as she reached the door, "Draco?" she met his eyes again.

Draco had to swallow before replying, "Yes?" He felt as wide eyed as she looked, and suddenly breathless.

"Would you like to walk with me down to breakfast in the morning?" she asked, chewing slightly on her bottom lip when she finished. Draco absently wondered if this was a nervous reaction. The idea made him braver.

But then what she had asked sank in and he could only sputter in the worst way for a Malfoy.

"I'd understand if you'd rather not-"

"No! No!" His hands flew out of his pockets, and he knew he must look and sound like a lunatic. He took a deep breath, desperate to regroup. "I would really like to walk to breakfast with you, but…" he paused.

"But what?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Are you sure you want to be seen…with me? I don't think your friends would approve."

"Oh," she seemed surprised by his answer, though Draco thought it was a perfectly reasonable argument. "Padma's the only friend I have in Ravenclaw. The rest of them never talked to me until after the war. My other friends are mostly Gryffindors, and I think some of them will actually give you a chance. Besides," she continued with a gentle smile that showed no sign that she had known war, "I don't really care what people think of me. Do you?"

The truth came to Draco's lips before he even realized he knew the answer, "Not anymore."

"So you'll meet me in the morning?" she asked again.

"Yes, I'll be here waiting," he replied and watched her walk away.

Draco felt paralyzed as she left him alone. He felt far too light; the sensation snapped him out of his stand still, and he stumbled into the sofa behind him. His brain ran circles around the evening and around all that had transpired between Luna Lovegood and himself. It didn't seem real.

Luna had said he could probably go to his dormitory now, but Draco was far too cautious to go in just yet. He quickly located parchment in one of the desks scattered around the room, and sat to write to his mother. He told her of his resorting, but didn't know what to say beyond that. Should he mention Luna? What would his mother think? He reasoned that he would leave Luna out of the letter for now…no doubt he was far too excited and reading far too much into her request to walk with him to breakfast. She was probably just being nice, and perhaps trying to set a good example for the other students. These excuses sounded solid enough for now, so he finished his short letter, tucked it into his robes, and went to the door that would take him to his dormitory. He entered silently as he could, letting his wand drop out of his sleeve and into his hand. He was relieved to see a candle burning beside what he presumed was his bed.

He tiptoed over, realizing as he did that he was actually being considerate of others, something he would not have been doing two years ago. He knew he would have burst into his Slytherin dormitory, not giving a damn about his sleeping roommates.

He unpacked his robe pockets, returning his trunk to its normal size. He silently cast an array of spells to protect his belongings, undressed quickly, and slipped into the bronze sheets, pulling the blue drapes shut. He casts more spells to protect him while slept. He would not make the mistake of underestimating any of the Ravenclaws.

He thought it would have been more difficult to fall asleep that night, but exhaustion from the day's events got the best of him, and before he knew it, he was breathing evenly and dreaming—not for the first time—about Luna Lovegood.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco woke the following morning slightly disoriented. He remembered being at Hogwarts, but the usual draftiness of the Slytherin dungeons was missing. He slowly opened his eyes. Light was trying to penetrate the heavy curtains around his bed, but it only made it through in the tiny cracks in the drapery. He sat up and raised his hand to open the curtain enough to see a sliver of the room. He could see the stone walls, a much lighter wash than the ones in the dungeons. The deep blue hues around the room were softened by the morning light that filled the round room. Draco sat up further, tossing the covers off of his legs, and removed his wand from beneath his pillow.

Cautiously, he drew the curtain back, viewing more of the room. The curtains around the other three beds were closed, and faint snoring was coming from at least one of his roommates. It appeared that they were all still asleep. A quick and silently cast Tempus told him that it was nearly seven thirty.

Draco's eyes widened at the time. Draco's internal clock usual awoke him around six every morning. He felt slightly panicked that over an hour would be shaved off his routine, and quickly got out of the bed, retrieved his toiletries from his trunk, and entered what he assumed was the wash room.

Twenty minutes later, he was kneeling at his trunk, pulling out his school uniform. As promised by Flitwick, there was a Ravenclaw tie and badge lying neatly on his night stand. Draco made quick work of removing his Slytherin badge from his outer robe and replacing it with the Ravenclaw badge. It felt surreal, looking at the badge, standing beside his blue-covered bed in Ravenclaw tower. His thoughts were jerked away as he noticed the green lining on his expensive robes. He assumed there was probably a charm to change the color, but he didn't know it off the top of his head. He made a mental note to look it up later.

He heard a rustling from one of the beds behind him. He quickly pulled on his slacks, not wanting to be "caught with his pants down" by one of his new roommates—especially if it was Michael Corner. As he pulled his white button up shirt over his shoulders, the awakened roommate spoke.

"Malfoy—morning," Anthony paused to yawn. Draco turned just in time to see it. "Sleep alright?"

"I slept well, thank you," Draco let a small smile curve the corners of his mouth. He was relieved Anthony had been the first to wake.

Just then, more rustling came from another bed. Michael's feet hit the stone floor hard as he stumbled blearily out of his bed, barely escaping being caught in the hangings. And he was completely naked. Draco was stunned for a moment before he hurriedly looked away, concentrating very intently on buttoning his shirt. He couldn't help but look up, though, as Terry climbed out of the same bed, tying a silky black robe around his middle.

Michael stumbled to the bathroom, grunting a barely intelligible morning greeting. He was obviously not a morning person. When he had disappeared behind the bathroom door, Anthony laughed out loud, bending over his own truck.

"Well, I'm glad to see the two of you have gotten better with your silencing charms since last year," Anthony smirked at Terry.

Terry returned his own smirk and said, "I'll take that as a compliment." Then he looked at Draco. Draco almost looked away from the gaze, but Terry asked before he could, "I certainly hope you're not a homophobe?"

"No, of course not," Draco hurriedly answered.

"I didn't think so, not with what we've heard about Slytherin blokes," Terry smiled at him now.

Draco couldn't help but laugh softly along with Terry and Anthony. "It's true, I'm sure; although…" he paused, almost afraid of offending, but trudged on, "well, I'm as straight as they come."

Anthony laughed out loud again, and Terry joked, "Well, we can't all be one of the chosen few." Draco shook his head as he laughed. The morning wasn't turning out so bad after all.

Michael came out of the bathroom, dripping in water with a towel securely around his waist. He seemed much more awake after his quick shower. He looked quickly at Draco, nodded his head, and went out of sight to the other side of the bed. Draco arched an eyebrow at Terry. Although Michael's head nod wasn't exactly friendly, it was much less hostile than his attitude the night before. Terry had picked up his toiletries and walked over to Draco, saying quietly, "He's hot headed, but he'll come around. He's not a bad guy."

Draco smiled down at him in understanding. Terry headed off to the bathroom, and Draco finished getting ready. He slipped the letter for his mother into his bag before picking it up and heading for the door. He paused at the mirror, straightening his tie and double checking his hair. He breathed in a steadying gulp of air, released a "see you guys at breakfast," and headed to the eighth year common room.

Padma was just exiting the common room when he was walking in. He was just beginning to fidget in his nervous anticipation when Luna walked out of the door leading to the girls' dormitory.

"Good Morning, Draco," she smiled shyly when she spotted him.

"Hi," Draco breathed, hating that he felt suddenly breathless as soon as he saw her. There was something different about her that he couldn't quite place. Nothing about her appearance seemed to be very different: she wore the standard black skirt and knee socks, white button up shirt with her tie hanging loose around her neck, and her robe hanging loose from her shoulders. As she approached him, he noticed she was wearing black stud earrings—_the earrings_!

Draco opened his mouth before he could stop himself, "You're wearing new earrings." He felt stupid immediately.

"Oh, yes…I got them just before returning to Hogwarts." She blushed a very pretty shade of pink that made Draco's stomach do an odd sort of flip-flop.

"They're nice," Draco spoke and smiled softly down at her. "Did something happen to the dirigible plums?"

The smile of delight that broke out across her face was enough to widen Draco's own smile and fill him with a joy he had never experienced. Making Luna Lovegood smile like that at him was something he wanted to do more of. She looked down, again so shyly, and answered, "I still have them, I just…well, I decided to put them away for a while. Most people call them radishes," she looked back up at him, "I really hate when they do that. They're not radishes." She wrinkled her nose, and Draco could only laugh breathlessly. It was frustrating, yet pleasing, the way she stripped him of every ounce of his _Malfoy Swag_, as Pansy Parkinson had coined it long ago. "Are you alright?" Luna asked, obviously concerned since Draco hadn't said anything.

"Wrackspurts…I think," he muttered, still slightly stunned by the blond girl before him.

Luna just laughed. When she reached out and tucked her hand under his arm, he had to concentrate on keeping his eyes from bulging out of his head and his heart from beating clear out of his flushing chest. "Are you ready?" she asked him. The look in her eye told Draco that she knew she had shocked him.

"Yeah," he said. When she looked away from him, he was able to gain at least a small bit of composure. He straightened his back and pulled his bag more firmly over his shoulder. "Shall we?" The smirk of old came back to him out of nowhere; she smiled back at him and they left the room together.

Draco and Luna emerged into the main Ravenclaw common room. Luckily, only a few younger students were there. But everyone present was practically gaping at the blond pair. Draco swallowed nervously, but was distracted by the spectacular view of the mountains that darkness had hidden the night before.

"Oh wow," he whispered in awe. He and Luna both stopped to turn and look out the window from the middle of the room.

"I know. It's so beautiful. Just wait until they're covered with snow and ice. It's absolutely breathtaking," she sounded just as awed at the sight as Draco.

"I guess one never gets used to a view like that," Draco reasoned aloud.

"No, of course not. Beauty like that is eternally recreating itself before our eyes," she said, tugging him towards the exit. Draco didn't think she had any clue that she had said something rather profound.

They left the common room, and Luna took her hand away from Draco's arm as they descended the spiral staircase. He noticed that he wanted her hand back on him, and was disappointed when she didn't resume the gesture once they were walking down the corridor. They walked in silence most of the way to the hall. Draco felt awkward in the silence, but a glance at Luna showed that she seemed comfortable with it. As a matter of fact, she looked completely lost in her own thoughts.

As though she had read his mind, she looked at him and began speaking, "Have you ever seen a dirigible plum grow?"

"Um," Draco was caught off guard by the random question. "No…no, I don't think I ever have. I've used them in potions…but that's it. Have you?"

"Oh yes!" Draco watched as her eyes lit up before she began telling him, excitedly, "My daddy bought some seeds off a Herbologist from Ireland years ago and we started growing them at our house. It's really quite amazing. They grow _upside down_!" Her excitement peeked even more; Draco wondered at how many people had been willing to listen to her share this story. From the sounds of it, no one had. She rushed on, "It's true, they do look an awful lot like radishes, and they are closely connected to radishes, but they are extraordinarily different-" she stopped suddenly, looking at Draco as if she needed permission to continue.

No, Draco realized, no one had ever let Luna talk about dirigible plums. "You mean, other than the way they grow upside down?" he asked. The smile she gave him sent a pleasurable wave of heat soaring through his chest.

"Of course! They supposedly have great magical properties, as well!"

"Supposedly?" Draco cut in.

"Yes, well…some of the more…_eccentric_…Herbologists—including the one that sold my daddy the seeds, say that dirigible plums open up the door to the extraordinary…" Draco looked at her when she stopped speaking. She was chewing at her bottom lip, looking at the floor, and her cheeks had that lovely pink tint to them again.

Draco didn't understand why she seemed embarrassed, but as soon as he thought it, he realized why. "So the earrings you wore," he started slowly, putting the pieces together, "…they open the door to the extraordinary?"

"Yes, that's why I wore them. But not so much to _open the door_, as to help _open my mind_ to the extraordinary." She raised her eyebrows at him as she finished, and promptly started chewing on her lip again.

Draco had never heard of dirigible plums having magical properties like that, but he wasn't about to tell Luna that that idea seemed…_eccentric,_ as Luna had put it.

He supposed he had been quiet for too long because Luna spoke again, "Did you know that most Muggles don't believe that Unicorns exist?"

Again, Draco was cut off guard by the random and off topic question. "No," he answered, "I don't know a lot about Muggles."

She giggled and smiled up at him, arching an eyebrow, "That doesn't surprise me."

If someone else had said the same thing, Draco would have been tempted to throw a hex at them, but when Luna said it, there was clearly no malice or judgment in it. She was just stating her thoughts. And her thoughts were right, Draco mused to himself.

"But anyway, there are some Muggles that are considered to be very odd, just because they believe that Unicorns exist," she continued.

"But Unicorns do exist," Draco stated, confused where the topic of conversation was going.

"Yes, well, no Muggle has ever seen a Unicorn. So, of course, they think that anyone who believes in them is odd. Some Muggles believe in Magic, too. We know that Magic is real, but the Muggles that believe in Magic are considered…._eccentric._"

Draco smiled as she emphasized the last word, "I see your point. And you make a good one. But what do you think of dirigible plums? Did they work for you?" he asked, genuine curiosity bubbling inside him.

"I don't know…maybe they work…maybe I'm just weird," she shrugged and laughed. "But I don't think it matters either way. If I believe that something is real, it doesn't matter to me if I've never seen it…just because something is unheard of doesn't mean it doesn't exist—somewhere."

"You are quite eccentric," Draco smiled at her, tucking a hand into his pocket and pulling his bag further onto his shoulder as he said it.

"Yes, I know," she smiled back. "Perhaps you should think of taking Muggle studies with me. That stuff they taught last year," she shuddered, "well, that was absolutely the most inaccurate teaching of Muggles I've ever had to endure."

"That stuff they taught last year is what I was taught my entire life," he smirked at her.

"Even more of a reason for you to take it," she challenged.

"Maybe I will," he challenged back.

They both looked ahead of them as they moved through the doors to the Great Hall. A few heads turned as Draco and Luna approached the Ravenclaw table. Draco kept his head down, though, trying to avoid the stairs. He half-wondered when Luna would distance herself from him to show the other students that she was _not_ walking with Draco Malfoy. The other half of him felt that Luna wouldn't do something like that. The second half was right.

Just before they reached the table, Luna gently placed a hand on his arm to stop him. "Do you mind saving me a seat?" she asked. She looked over in the direction of the Gryffindor table, "Neville's waving me over, but I'll be right back, okay?" She chewed on her lip, and Draco got the impression that she felt bad for leaving him on his own.

"Go ahead. I doubt I'll have a problem saving you a seat. In case you haven't noticed, some of our housemates are under the impression that I have the plague," he smiled, although he really was nervous now that she was leaving his side.

She laughed aloud at the joke and squeezed his arm before trotting off to the Gryffindor table.

Draco was disappointed that his roommates weren't there yet; he thought perhaps that Anthony, at least, wouldn't object to sitting near him. As it was, the only face that was remotely friendly was Padma Patil's. She nodded as he walked past, but seeing as she was surrounded by younger, glaring students, he didn't even attempt to get near her. He ended up at the end of the table, alone, in the same spot from the night before.

He selected a bagel from the bowl of bread before him, coating it in a thin layer of cream cheese as he let his eyes slowly wander to the Gryffindor table. She wasn't hard to spot. Luna was wedged between Neville and Harry. Hermione and Ron were absent from the table, so Draco assumed they hadn't made it down to breakfast yet. Harry was speaking animatedly about something that had both Luna and Neville roaring with laughter—laughter that was drawing attention from other students in the hall. Then Luna was speaking and Neville and Harry were leaning in even closer to listen to her.

Draco wondered what she was saying. When all three sets of eyes looked up at him, Draco dropped his knife with a loud clatter and quickly ducked his blushing face under the table to retrieve it. When he emerged, half the Ravenclaw table was looking at him as though he had done something absurdly disrespectful. He held up his knife in an attempt for explanation, but from the horrified expressions, it was clear that some of them had taken it as a threat.

Anthony plunked down across the table from him, and Draco didn't think he'd ever been so relieved in his life. Other than when the Dark Lord died, he thought; immediately, he wished he hadn't thought it and was shaking the thought off when Anthony chimed in, "Alright, Malfoy?"

"Yeah. Fine. Where's Corner and Boot?" Draco asked, looking to the entrance. Hermione and Ron were just walking in, hand in hand.

"Oh, they'll be along…" Anthony began filling his plate, and Draco caught Luna's return to the Ravenclaw table from the corner of his eye. He didn't realize he had been holding his breath until she gracefully slid into the seat beside him and he released it.

"Morning, Luna," Anthony said between bites.

"Goodmorning, Anthony!" Luna said happily before motioning at Padma down the table to come join them. "Did I take too long?" She whispered, smiling to Draco as she did.

"Oh…no," Draco smiled what he hoped wasn't a nervous grin, startled by the open friendliness she was showing to him in front of the quickly crowding dining hall.

Padma took a seat on Luna's other side, and Terry and Michael soon joined the group. Easy conversation floated among them, though Draco didn't say much. He listened, nibbling at his food, and took in the details around him. He couldn't help but marvel at the experience of being near what he had so long thought of as _these people._ Here he sat in the midst of them, the Slytherin Ravenclaw ; and all the reputation of the Malfoy name; students all over the hall constantly casting glances to the small group that had gathered around him. Yet still they let him sit among them, listen to their jokes, listen to them laugh.

Anthony Goldstein looked every inch the prefect badge he wore on his robes. He was neat, but in a boyish manner. He smiled more than anyone Draco had ever seen, especially in the current state of post-war. And Draco could see that his kindness was genuine.

Pamda Patil, on the other side of Luna, was mostly quiet, but when she spoke she was sure of what she said. She seemed strong and shy, at the same time.

Terry Boot was obviously pure-blooded. He sat up straight, properly eating a bowl of oatmeal and drinking a glass of milk. But he had humor that was delivered with such a dignified manner that he was easily bringing the group to laughter over and over again. This was Terry's mask, Draco thought. He spoke and laughed, but behind his eyes, Draco could see he was constantly thinking. It was amazing to Draco that this same man had stood up on this exact same table, screaming the news of Harry's Gringotts break-in, firing hexes at the Carrows. And Draco didn't miss how Terry would occasionally reach over to discretely to touch Michael in some way.

How was it that Michael Corner, who had vocalized so passionately his distaste for Draco, was even here, a part of the group around him? He and Draco could not have been more opposite. Michael seemed like a guy that spent more time on a broom than in a library—they type of guy that would rather lift weights than open a book. He stuffed his face, and sometimes talked with food in his mouth. But you could watch every emotion pass over his face. You'd have to be blind not to see the look of pure adoration he wore when he looked at Terry.

Why did the looks that Michael and Terry shared make him want to look at Luna? So he watched her. He watched her engage in conversation, watched her laugh with her friends. How could she laugh, yet he found it so hard? He had lived as prisoner to the Dark Lord; she had lived as prisoner not only unto the Dark Lord, but also to him. How could she laugh?

How could any of them? Maybe because they had been on the right side of the war. But he didn't really believe that being on the right side would make the suffering after the war any less. Didn't they still hurt? Then a thought occurred to him: Maybe having each other—having friends, is what made them able to be like this; but friends in the sense that Draco had never known it. They were open, and free, and at one time Draco would have called them foolish and careless.

Draco's world didn't feel real. How could _these people: _the pure, the good, and the war heroes—the ones on Chocolate Frog Cards, be allowing him to sit with them? His mind shouted for him to be safe, strong, and cautious. But another part of him, a part of himself that he vaguely knew, allowed the sudden feeling of hope to seep inside of him. He felt like he was amongst great people that could become his first real friends.

He watched Luna slowly fade from the conversation and stare into space. What was she thinking now? Draco wanted to know, and wondered if it was okay that he wanted to know so badly. When her eyes wandered over to him, he felt trapped, unable to look away. Her pale cheeks turned that innocent shade of pink and she smiled slowly at him. He wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind, so he didn't.

He was both disappointed and relieved when Professor Flitwick claimed her attention. He drank his tea as he tried not to listen while Luna discussed her classes with Flitwick. When she added Muggle Studies, she tapped Draco lightly on the arm. When he looked at her and saw her grin, he grinned back, and didn't try to act like he hadn't heard anything.

"Are you still going to take it with me?" she asked him, the shadow of a dare behind her wide pretty eyes.

Draco didn't hesitate to nod and have Flitwick add it to his class schedule. As Flitwick moved on to the other students, Draco wondered if Luna would sit with him in class. The idea to ask her himself entered his mind, and he only hesitated nervously for a very short moment before opening his mouth and asking her quietly, "So do you wanna…sit with me in class?" He felt foolish immediately and looked away embarrassed, hoping that no one else had heard the stupid words that had just fallen from the hole in his face.

Then she reached over and touched his arm. She was blushing again when looked at her. When she answered him in that wandering, sweet tone, "I was thinking we could sit together in all our classes," he knew he would marry her one day, somehow. His mask slipped, just long enough that Luna would see him looking at her the same way that Michael looked at Terry.


	4. Chapter 4

The first day of classes was nothing short of a roller-coaster for Draco Malfoy.

Draco and Luna had left the Great Hall together after breakfast, along with the many other students eager to start the first official day back. When they arrived in Charms, Luna led them to a pair of seats, where they were soon joined by Anthony on Draco's side, and both Harry and Neville on Luna's side. Harry and Neville both cast him identical nods before taking their seats, and Draco delivered a practiced, polite nod in return, masking his surprise. The other Eighth Years filed in quickly, and Draco was again forced to notice the absence of any Slytherin students. The other houses, admittedly mostly Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, sat amongst each other, paying no mind to houses.

Professor Flitwick distributed a list of charms that they should know at this point in their education; unfortunately, many of them, including Draco, had yet to master them all. As Draco scanned the list, he found the charm to turn the green on his robes to blue, but he didn't dare try it in front of the class. Though he was rather good at non-verbal spell work, having been trained by his father since he was eleven, he usually needed to do new spells verbally first to be successful in the non-verbal application. He would wait until he was alone to try it. Flitwick asked them to pair off for the second half of class, and Draco couldn't keep the smile off his face when Luna gripped his arm, claiming him as her partner.

Draco watched Luna fire off several charm spells, some at inanimate objects, and some at him. She had no problem with any of them, being obviously very good at Charms. When she fired a Tickling Charm in his direction, Draco burst out in laughter as his most sensitive, ticklish places were harassed under invisible fingers. He quickly flicked his wand over himself, silently removing the charm. As he noticed the looks he was receiving from around the classroom, he bit the inside of his cheek to reign in his laughter. He doubted any of these people had ever seen him smile, much less laugh out loud.

He quickly cast his own Tickling Charm at her, and though he tried to restrain himself, he broke out into a broad smile as he watched her laugh take over. Her blonde hair fell away from her face as she threw her head back, her laugh high pitched and uncontrolled. Her head snapped to Draco as she clutched her sides, her eyes filling with tears of mirth. She pulled her wand and pointed it at herself, trying to stutter the incantation to stop the charm, "F-F-Fini…" She couldn't quite get the words out, so Draco flicked his wand and released her from the charm.

Draco stared at her as she breathed in a sigh of relief and clutched the back of the nearest chair. She was looking straight at him, her laugh still evident in the sparkle in her eyes, the flush on her cheeks, and the smile on her face. How was it he had never given her any notice before the Manor? He couldn't stop the daze that came over him as she approached him, complimenting his use of non-verbal magic.

He left the class with her holding his arm, promising to take time in the evening to help her with her wordless magic. Draco's at first timid hopes were now soaring high above him, and he had no problem acknowledging that Luna was the reason for that. In some part of his mind, he was aware that he was being unsafe; he was aware that he and Luna were catching glances from all around; and he was aware that the joy and freedom he was feeling now could not last. But he pushed those thoughts aside, and smiled at the beautiful blonde on his arm.

His hopes dwindled, but remained intact when they entered the Potions classroom, where they saw that instead of the usual double desks, there were several tables set up for single use. Draco and Luna chose work tables next to each other.

"Good morning, everyone! And welcome back!" Slughorn entered the room looking thinner than he had the previous year, yet no less jolly. "Now, everyone up! You'll be assigned your seats by me."

Draco was disappointed, but he picked up his bag and went to the back of the room with the rest of the class. It didn't take Draco long to understand Slughorn's pattern of arranging the students around the room. He didn't stop the sneer that rose to his face as he watched everyone be assigned a seat before him. Luna was put in the center section of the room along with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Terry—all the most popular heroes, all members of Slughorn's beloved club. He was far more careless with the seating arrangements for the other students, scattering them at random around the central group. Finally, he got to Draco.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy, I have a very special seat for you," he grinned at Draco and placed his hands on a table at the very front, very center of the room. "From here, we can all keep an eye on you, you see?"

Draco was beyond horrified! Slughorn's tone was condescending and his assumption that he needed to be watched was infuriating and embarrassing, but it was not the worst part. Draco's fear level peaked as all eyes turned on him as he stood frozen at the back of the room.

"Come, now, Mister Malfoy, we don't have all morning to wait on you. Take your seat," Slughorn demanded, not faking politeness so much anymore.

Draco swallowed around the lump of fear that was lodged in his throat and slowly made his way past the other students to his stool. His breathing sped up and he couldn't control the prickles on the back of his neck as he sat down slowly, his back to the room full of members of Dumbledore's Army. He cast a shield over his shoulder, more thankful than ever that he had mastered the art of casting spells without the use of words.

Only once did something hit his shield, and a glance over his shoulder showed a confused Dean Thomas of Gryffindor being scolded by Seamus Finnigan. Potions ended without any further hexes thrown at Draco's back. But that didn't stop Draco's hands from shaking as he chopped, diced, and crushed his ingredients. He had never been so happy to see the end of a Potions class.

Most of the Eighth Year students, including Luna, would be getting a free period now, but Draco had signed up for Advanced Potions. When the class ended, he focused on cleaning his work area and didn't turn around to see if Luna would wave goodbye. His nerves were fried.

"Alright, the rest of you come to the front of the room here, behind Mister Malfoy," Slughorn instructed. Draco heard movement behind him as the remaining students shuffled forward and sat at the tables directly behind Draco. A scraping noise brought Draco's eyebrows together, and he turned in confusion to the source of the noise. Terry Boot was holding his wand over his desk, commanding it forward silently. It screeched to a halt right beside Draco. Draco starred up at him, but Terry just arched an eyebrow at him before flicking his robe imperiously behind him and sitting on his stool beside Draco. Draco returned the arched brow in much the same fashion and was greeted with a small smile from Terry. Seconds later, the scraping noise returned. Terry and Draco both looked over as Padma and Parvati Patil followed Terry's lead, moving their desks alongside them. Though neither sat beside Draco or acknowledged him in any way, Draco still felt gratitude towards them. Even if they had only been following Terry's lead, Terry's lead seemed to be in Draco's favor. Slughorn appeared openly startled at their behavior, but said nothing.

Draco was much calmer in his Advanced Potions class than he had been in the regular Potions class. He took his shield charm down, and followed the instructions for the potion that Slughorn left them to do. Soon he was standing over a brewing potion, calmer than he had been all day. Potion brewing had always been a way for him to find his center and readjust. When his Potion was done, he put it into the glass vial, corked it, and took it to Slughorn for inspection.

"First one finished, Mister Malfoy?" Slughorn asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Draco fought to keep the sneer from his face. How could Slughorn act surprised? Of course, seeing as how Draco was less than popular in light of his actions during the war, he wasn't surprised that Slughorn would treat him this way. Slughorn only favored the most popular, well connected students. That still didn't negate Draco's obvious skill and talent as a Potions student and future Potions Master. Even when Draco had been highly distracted, stressed, and depressed during his sixth year, he still managed to effortlessly obtain top marks in Potions. Slughorn knew that, or he wouldn't have permitted Draco to take his Advanced Potions class.

"Very well," Slughorn shrugged when Draco said nothing, only passing the vial over to his professor. "You can pack your things and leave. No need to wait on the others to finish. Good day."

Draco turned sharply on his heel, cleared his work area and packed his things. Even after all the peace-inducing brewing, he felt more wired and agitated than he had when he started the class.

He stomped from the room, but was at least careful not to slam the door behind him. With every step he took, the cautious side of him grew louder and his mask that he had foregone for far too long that morning was put back together piece by piece. He walked right past the Great Hall, bustling in the lunch hour, not wanting to sit among the stares right now. By the time he reached the massive oak front doors, his back was straight and rigid, his head held high, and all emotion void from his features. He strode across the grounds until he reached Greenhouse Seven. He conjured a small blanket and slumped down on it, leaning against the greenhouse wall.

He was just getting into a good scowl session when a voice called to him in question, "Malfoy?" Draco leapt from the ground as fast as he could and whipped around. Neville Longbottom's head was peeking out from around the front of the greenhouse. He stepped out and took strides towards Draco. "What are you doing here so early?" Neville asked.

"I…didn't much fancy eating right now. Thought I'd come on out…get to class early," Draco bit out a bit harsher than was necessary, but Neville seemed unaffected by the attitude.

"Oh, well…I'm moving a few plants for Professor Sprout, you know, helping her set up for class. Maybe you'd like to help me out?" Neville asked, shrugging.

Draco narrowed his eyes, not sure if the once awkward Gryffindor had some hidden motive. He watched Neville look to the ground and dig his toe nervously into the dirt when Draco didn't immediately answer. No, Draco decided, Neville's bravery was legendary. He was a Gryffindor through and through. He wasn't going to curse Draco, at least not when his back was turned. "I suppose I have nothing better to do," Draco finally stated.

Neville's head shot up at the answer, and a small, albeit genuine grin appeared on his face. "Alright," he nodded, "Follow me."

They spent the next hour moving a number of plants that certainly had the ability to be dangerous if not handled properly from Greenhouse five to Greenhouse Seven, where Herbology would be held. Though Draco had been exposed to many magical plants at his Manor Home, and many others that he had used in Potions, he was still unfamiliar with most of them. Neville, on the other hand, seemed to be an endless pot of knowledge when it came to them.

Neville had been insistent that Draco should wear his protective gloves and goggles the whole time, along with a face mask, in the case of some of the more feisty plants releasing harmful fumes. Draco felt utterly ridiculous in the garb. They spoke little in the way of personal conversation, but Neville kept up a polite, informative stream of instructions on the best way to move the plants. Too many times, Draco found himself outright harassed and abused by the plants. He'd been bitten, slapped, tugged on and bound, no matter how closely he followed Neville's directions. Luckily, Neville was efficient in getting Draco out of every mess he got into with the plants.

Draco had just set the last plant down in the back of Greenhouse Seven when he heard none other than the voice of Harry Potter from the front of the Greenhouse, "Neville! Where are you?"

Draco hurriedly stood up to make some sort of exit when the plant reached out and gripped him tight around the ankle.

"Right here, Harry," he heard Neville reply.

Draco dropped to one knee, hurriedly stroking the leaves on the plant the way that Neville had showed him. The plant only tightened his grip, and Draco huffed in frustration.

"Are we alone?" Harry asked. Draco's ears perked at the suggestiveness that oozed from Harry's voice.

"Only for a moment, Harry. I found Malfoy outside, and he's been helping me set up for class. Sprout's down in Greenhouse three, cleaning up from her last class," Neville answered.

"So we are alone, at least until Malfoy gets here?" Harry asked. Draco looked around the plant, intent on making his presence known, but the sight only caused his eyes to widen and his voice to freeze on his tongue.

Harry waved his wand, and with an audible click, the greenhouse door was locked. Potter pulled Neville close, and the two began making out with vigor. Harry's lips quickly moved down Neville's neck, though Neville tried to protest, "No, Harry…mmm….Malfoy could….ah….be here any second."

Draco snapped into action, tearing off his mask and goggles, stroking the leaves with all the finesse he could muster, but the damn thing wouldn't loosen! His eyes darted back to the snogging pair just as Harry lifted Neville onto the table, pushing his robes aside. He was just about to pull out his wand and sever the plants hold on him—exactly what Neville had told him _not _to do-when Neville's eyes opened and met Draco's. Both boys eyes went wide and Neville squeaked, "Malfoy!"

Harry stopped his groping and spun around. "Malfoy, what are you doing?" Harry demanded.

Draco shut his eyes and slowly stood from his position on the ground. "This fucking plant won't let go of me," he managed. He couldn't open his eyes, too embarrassed with the entire situation. As intriguing as it was to find out about Neville and Harry's relationship this way, Draco couldn't stop the overwhelming embarrassment at having been caught witnessing it.

"Oh," Neville said. Draco opened his eyes when he heard Neville approaching him. Neville dropped to his knees, and gently began stroking the leaves closest to Draco's ankle. Draco looked up at Potter, who was looking at him with a look between confusion and anger. The plant loosened on his ankle and Draco was free.

"How'd you do that? I was stroking the damn thing like my life depended on it!" Draco asked Neville.

He was startled when Neville broke into a smile and began chuckling, "Yeah, I bet you were! Sorry you had to see that," he nodded towards Harry.

Draco didn't know what to say, but was saved from having to come up with an adequate response by Harry. "Look, Malfoy, only the important people in our lives know about us. I don't need to be reading this in the Daily Prophet over breakfast." He sounded desperate and angry.

Draco blinked. It hadn't even occurred to him to blab on Potter and Longbottom. "It's really not my business who you choose to date, Potter."

"So…you won't say anything?" Neville asked, still standing close to him.

"No, I will not." Draco tilted his head towards Neville and Harry, hoping they'd believe him, though he wouldn't be surprised if they saw obliviation as a better way to ensure their secret than to actually trust him.

After a moment of silence, Harry joined him and Neville. "Alright, Malfoy," he said with finality, extending his hand forward. "Not a word."

Draco looked at the hand for a moment before slowly extending his own. "Not a word," he concurred, shaking Potter's outstretched hand. The first sounds of students coming up the slope from the castle could be heard now. Harry's grip was firm and aimed at intimidation, but Draco didn't let any sign of discomfort cross his face.

The voices outside grew louder as the eighth years drew closer. Professor Sprout came into the room first, covered in her usual film of dirt and grass stains.

"Neville, thank you so much for setting up. Take five points," she said. "Oh hello Harry…and Mister Malfoy?" the plump, aged witch seemed confused with the students that made up the trio in the room.

"Hello, Professor," Harry and Draco said at the same time, though Harry's voice was much warmer and far less proper than Draco's.

"Professor, Draco helped me set up," Neville said politely, motioning to Draco.

"Oh really?" Professor Sprout asked, not hiding her surprise as she looked at Draco. "Well, in that case take five points for Slytherin—oh excuse me, it's Ravenclaw now, isn't it?" Draco nodded his head. He was caught off guard when Professor Sprout laughed, "Oh my, that's going to take some getting used to, isn't it! Five points to Ravenclaw, Mister Malfoy. Well done."

The door to the greenhouse opened and the first of the class bustled in. Neville and Harry shared a look before turning to Draco. They seemed to come to some sort of silent agreement before walking to one side of the long table. Neville turned his head and motioned for Draco to follow. Though unsure why, Draco followed anyway.

He stood on one side of Neville, though he left a sizable space between them. He almost jumped up in surprise when Luna slid between them, "Hi!" she chirped, smiling at him.

"Hi," he said quietly, feeling calmer by her presence.

"Hey, Loo!" Neville said cheerfully, pulling Luna between him and Harry.

"Hello, boys," Luna teased, letting herself be pulled between them. If Draco didn't know any better, he would think the three of them were entirely too flirtatious. But as he now knew the status of Potter and Longbottom's orientation, he found their campy behavior with Luna to be amusing. The term _faghag, _in a non-derogatory sense, of course, certainly rang a bell.

The table was filling up fast around them. He received a hello from Anthony, who sidled up on his left, as he had done in Charms that morning, and Hermione and Ron came to stand across from Neville and Harry. Draco became suddenly aware of his state of appearance. He knew he had a couple of cuts on his face, if the slight burning situation was anything to go by. He'd broke quite a sweat helping Neville carry the troublesome plants back into the classroom greenhouse and had used his sleeve more than once to wipe at the sheen of sweat on his brow. He shuddered as his imagination presented a picture of his hair in his mind. On top of that, the tenderness around his eyes suggested that his goggles had left suction rings around them. Even Quidditch didn't leave him feeling so out of sorts. And at least the sport provided a good excuse to appear so unkempt and sweaty.

But when Luna bumped into him after an obvious shove from Neville and clung to his arm to keep from falling, he couldn't care less what he looked like. That was another first.

"So, there's going to be a party—to sort of celebrate the end of our first day back-in the Room of Requirement tonight. Would you like to go?" she asked, straightening but staying close to him.

"The room of requirement?" Draco asked. "Is that somewhere near the Ravenclaw common room?"

"It's the room of hidden things, Malfoy," Harry calmly interrupted, his eyes not quite meeting Draco's.

Draco made to say "Oh," but the words seemed to get lost in his throat though his mouth formed the shape. He looked down at the table as the memories from that room flooded his mind. He hadn't been expecting for the safely tucked away memories of sixth year and of Crabbe's death to be brought to the surface so abruptly.

He heard Professor Sprout call the class to attention, and Luna whisper, "It's okay, we'll talk about it later." He nodded his head in her direction without fully comprehending the words.

When the class came to the time to actually work with the plants, Draco was forced out of his horrid thoughts. His focus was still off, and had he not been wearing his protective gloves, he'd probably have an array of cuts all over his hands and wrists.

Luna and Neville were both enthusiastic about the class, and were constantly talking about the unusual methods the French were using to grow the plants, or the amazing uses the Americans had found for the roots, or the uniqueness of the leaves of those grown at Hogwarts, and just about every other aspect of the plant. Draco chanced a glance at Potter, who didn't look like he was enjoying the assignment any more than Draco. When Potter saw him looking, he rolled his eyes at Luna and Neville, sliced a leaf off the plant, and tossed it over his shoulder dramatically. Draco couldn't help but smile discreetly at him.

"I saw that, Harry, and if you do one more thing to hurt that lovely piece of life that you have the pleasure to care for, I will not be spreading my legs for you when you're drunk after the party tonight. Understood?" Neville didn't stutter or miss a beat.

Harry turned red and gaped at him before finally stuttering out, "But…Nev…please, you know how I get when I've been drinking!"

"Oh, I love when they get like this," Luna whispered, moving closer to Draco and further away from the other two.

"It is quite entertaining," Draco whispered back as he watched Neville point a finger at Harry, followed by Harry saying, "Understood! Okay! Just don't…you know…get all withholding! I'm sorry I hurt this…_lovely piece of life_." By this point Neville was focusing back on his plant, and Harry looked at Draco again, rolling his eyes with an amused smile on his face.

By the time they left Herbology, Draco thought the day had rounded out nicely, despite the bad moments. Luna walked beside him as they strode across the lawn back to the castle. She didn't walk as quickly as the average person, so the class was soon ahead of them.

"If you don't want to go to the party tonight, I'm sure no one would mind," Luna randomly stated.

Draco's eyes widened and he laughed as he looked at her. As soon as he looked at her face, he realized that she had no idea exactly what she had said. His smile widened and he replied, "I have no doubt that no one would mind, Miss Lovegood. And it's not that I do not wish to go-" he stopped speaking, unsure how to lead the statement away from his unwanted thoughts from earlier.

"I know. You don't have to share that with me if you're not ready," Luna said softly.

Draco was taken aback by her blunt insightfulness. A part of him wanted to ask what she was talking about—deny that there was anything to talk about, but instead he just said, "Thanks…and perhaps I will go."

"I'm so glad classes are done for the day! Aren't you? You certainly look like it! What did those poor plants do to you?" The change of subject was swift, and again Draco was unable to fight off a laugh at Luna's bluntness.

"Those plants were stubborn and had some ingrained aversion to me. I swear I did everything Neville told me to do, but I obviously have no talent when it comes to Herbology…and I don't look that awful, do I?" he asked as an afterthought.

"Oh no! I rather like this look on you. It's much more natural and certainly makes you seem more approachable. If you decide to escort me to the party tonight, I won't be disappointed if you decide not to freshen up."

Draco, this time, was left gaping at her, just barely remembering to keep his feet moving. Had she just asked him to be her escort to the party?

When he didn't immediately answer, she quickly amended, "Oh, but I think you look just as nice your usual way. If you decided to clean up, I wouldn't be disappointed with that, either!"

Draco swallowed and forced himself to answer strong, "If you really don't mind, I think I will freshen up a bit before escorting you to the party."

The smile she gave him was soft and unexpected, "Thank you, Draco," she said just as softly as her smile. Draco couldn't say anything; all he could do was smile back at her as the familiar words were spoken. _Thank you, Draco._

"Draco Malfoy!" The shriek came from the entrance to the castle. Draco and Luna both stopped dead in their tracks. That was a voice he would recognize anywhere, yet he was absolutely not expecting to hear now. "Draco what happened to you?" Pansy Parkinson descended the stairs and hurried forward. "Have you been attacked? Oh, Draco, your hair!" She reached him and gave Luna a slight bump to the side. Her hands went immediately to straightening him. "Oh, these stains on your robes—" she abruptly stopped moving as she peered at his robes. Her silence seemed to snap him out of his shock at seeing her. He followed her eyes and realized that she was staring at the badge on his robes.

"Pansy," he started, his eyes darting between her and Luna. Luna was backing away to leave, and Draco quickly nodded his head without a second thought, practically begging her to stay. She stopped moving, but didn't take any steps towards them. "Pansy, what are you doing here?" It wasn't the most graceful of statements, but he really couldn't think of anything better to say.

"Draco, what the fuck is that thing on your robe? Where is your Slytherin badge?" Pansy cried, pointing at him, backing away slightly.

"A lot's happened since you've been away, Pansy-" Draco tried.

"I've only missed one day of classes! What could I possibly have missed?" she cried. Draco could see his ex-girlfriend becoming slowly more and more angry. He stuttered to come up with an adequate excuse—and fast—to stop her rising temper. One look at Luna behind Pansy, and Draco resolved that nothing he could say would stop Pansy's anger. No matter how he explained it, she was going to be pissed off. "You tell me right now why _that thing_ is on your robe, Draco Malfoy."

"I've been resorted," Draco said quiet but firm.

Pansy's mouth all but fell open with a huff before she hurriedly clamped it shut again. "Can I please speak to you—_in private_?"

"Um-" his eyes flashed to Luna, but he was cut off as Pansy jerked him roughly by the sleeve.

"Now, Draco!" she demanded, half-dragging him past Luna and up the stairs into the entrance hall. Draco managed to send a look at Luna, hoping his face wasn't betraying the fear that he felt. As embarrassing as it would be to be rescued by a girl, he was really wishing Luna would come after him. But she just waved as though this were any standard goodbye, looking a curious brand of confused.

Pansy dragged him into the entrance hall and towards the dungeons. Draco didn't jerk from her grasp until Luna was completely out sight.

"Pansy, what are you doing here?" he demanded. "Last I heard, you had fled to Romania!" He was so confused, and quickly becoming angry that he had been dragged so unceremoniously away from Luna. Luna, who he hoped would still want to go to the party with him. He knew it was not wise to let his mind be clouded by thoughts of Luna with a very angry Pansy in front of him.

"I did not _flee_, Draco! I sustained injuries that were left untreated during the trials, and I didn't think it would benefit me to use St. Mungo's—dark mark or _no_ dark mark," she turned around and continued walking at a fast pace. "Hurry up, Draco. I am not going to have this conversation in the hallways."

Draco huffed and stormed after her. He bit his tongue as they descended into the dungeons. Draco realized he had not been down there since being back. Feeling the cold penetrating his robes the further he went, he couldn't say he was particularly sorry. They came to a halt outside the Slytherin common room, and only now did Draco open his mouth to object.

"I can't go in here, Pansy," Draco said quietly.

"Nonsense, Draco. Just because you've been Ravenclaw for a day doesn't mean you're suddenly not a Slytherin anymore," Pansy quipped. "Traitor Blood," she stated the password. Draco's eyes widened and he gulped, but when Pansy turned to look at him with a little smirk, his face was impassive. "Come, Draco," she said, stepping into the Snake Pit.

Draco followed, cautiously at first. As eyes around the room turned to him, though, he moved much closer to Pansy, hoping that her presence would protect him. Did the rest of the school see Slytherins this way? They were bloody scary from the other side!

"What is _he _doing here?" Draco snapped around and recognized the boy as being the one that had spoken to him in the threstral- drawn carriages.

Pansy studied the other boy from down her nose, before coming to a decision. Draco was almost feeling sorry for what was going to happen to the boy when Pansy shocked the hell out of him and said, "Very well, Patrick, you may stay—_the rest of you leave!" _Pansy ordered the room at large. Between the stares of Patrick and Pansy, the room reluctantly scattered to their dormitories.

Pansy led them swiftly over to the sitting area and conjured a tea tray. "Sit, Draco," she ordered.

Draco slowly walked around the couch. He was hoping he would be able to use it as a barrier between himself and the two dark haired Slytherins. He settled himself on the edge of his seat on the couch, across from Pansy and as far away from Patrick as he could get.

"Tea, Draco?" Pansy asked.

"No, thank you," Draco muttered.

"Tea, Draco," she demanded, flicking her wand and sending teacup and saucer soaring over to him.

"Thank you," Draco took the cup from the air and mock sipped it. He didn't really believe she had tampered with it, but one can never be too sure when it comes to a Slytherin.

"This is my cousin, Patrick. He informed me that you had returned to Hogwarts; hence, why I have returned. I had thought you would need an ally here with you," her eyes darted to the Ravenclaw badge, "but I see you've made other arrangements that Patrick failed to inform me of."

"I chose to be resorted. The hat decided I would do best in Ravenclaw. That's what happened," Draco stated as firmly as possible.

Patrick snickered from across the couch, "Yes, and to be with your new girlfriend, of course," the little shit added.

Draco had to fight from rolling his eyes as Pansy arched a brow at him. "Girlfriend, Draco? Moved on from me so quickly?" Pansy sipped her tea after speaking quietly. It was unnerving how much like Draco's own mother she appeared then.

"I don't have a girlfriend," Draco narrowed his eyes at the younger boy.

"Well, that's settled then. I can see how you found resorting to be a good plan to protect yourself; however, now that I am here you can return to your house, and perhaps your betrayal can be forgiven in time. Shall I remove that badge from your robes, Draco?" She pulled her wand out, ready to sever it.

Draco's hands went instantly to cover the Ravenclaw badge, a surprising panic coming over him. He jumped from the couch, "No, Pansy. That won't be necessary." He backed around the couch, hand still over the badge, his other hand sliding his wand out as discreetly as possible. He understood that Pansy's offer was beyond generous and beyond what they would have done for anyone else. He was only being given the option to return because he was _Draco Malfoy_. And refusing that offer was a grave offense.

Pansy and Patrick had both risen from their seats, wands out. Patrick had come around the couch, towards Draco, but Pansy stopped him with a word. Draco kept backing away, knowing that at any moment, Pansy's attack would come.

"Draco Malfoy," Pansy began, and the formality of her voice sent icicles forming down Draco's spine, freezing him to the spot, "are you willingly and knowingly abandoning the house of your fathers, the house of our fallen Lord, the house of Salazar Slytherin?"

Draco took another step back, realizing that the smartest, safest, easiest path was clear: Accept Pansy's offer; return to Slytherin. Then he opened his mouth and said, "Yes. I suppose I am."

Pansy's face twisted in horror momentarily, and Draco raised his wand slightly, waiting for the attack to come. But Pansy did something even worse. With rigid back and sneering mouth, she put her wand away in the folds of her expensive robes. "Patrick," she said softly, her eyes never leaving Draco's. "Lower your wand."

Patrick whipped his head around to look at Pansy incredulously. "We'll let him go for now," she said firmly. Draco couldn't stand there anymore. He almost tripped over himself as he backed away. With a gasp, he hit the entrance, wrenched it open, and finally fled away. His heart pounded in his chest as he ran as fast as he could to escape the dungeons. He strained his ears for footsteps behind him and looked fearfully over his shoulder every few feet; but no one came after him. He emerged from the dungeon corridors, breathing a sigh of momentary relief.

So Pansy had let him walk away, unscathed. Draco knew it was only for now. As he quickly made his way to the fifth corridor, and up the winding staircase, Draco consciously acknowledged that he had just made the most dumb, most un-Slytherin decision ever; yet never in all his years as a Malfoy had he felt such Pride in himself; and never in all his years as a Slytherin, had he shown such bravery. But never in his very short time as a Ravenclaw had he felt such fear.


End file.
